Fighting Spirit

I write a monthly column for Fighting Spirit Magazine, the United Kingdom's largest pro wrestling/MMA magazine, available on newstands across the UK. You can check out more about FSM at, but in the meantime here's an archive of my columns.


In a recent conversation with the incomparable Starmaker Bolin, I presented the theory that most wrestling fans these days are like the United States' Democratic and Republican parties--they're not just in disagreement on the course to take, they're hemispheres apart in agreeing on the destination. My comments, whether on my podcast The Jim Cornette Experience on, or on Twitter @TheJimCornette, or even the transcripts of something I've said--usually out of context and partial in nature--either make people stand up and cheer and join the Cult of Cornette, praising me as a beacon of truth, or hate me even more than they did already, tweeting me pictures of Grandpa Simpson shaking his fist at the clouds. The problem is, they're having these reactions to the same statements.


If there's one thing Tammy Sytch does well, it's attract attention.

It's always been that way. She's a natural-born attention getter, and has been since she was a teenager in New Jersey. She got enough of my attention to hire her for Smoky Mountain Wrestling. She got enough of the WWF's attention to make her the "first Diva". She got enough of the fans' attention to become the most downloaded celebrity on the worldwide web in the early days of the internet.


The recent passing of Archie Gouldie, AKA The Mongolian Stomper, at the age of 79 not only takes away another legendary figure in our sport, but it also calls attention to a breed of pro wrestler that has basically disappeared in the modern era--the heel that you can actually, legitimately be scared of.


Every year at Christmas season, I end up doing tons of reading, and most of it is about wrestling. The biggest reason for this is that people who know me best get me books or giftcards to bookstores as presents, and it's been that way most of my life. This season, my favorite wrestling reading was Capitol Revolution, Tim Hornbaker's wonderful history of the McMahon Family empire--which is basically a history of the business itself. Of course, I would have loved reading "Tuesday Night At The Gardens--Pro Wrestling In Louisville" even more, but the problem there is that I read it when I wrote it.


Every year, when Thanksgiving weekend in the United States rolls around at the end of November, every wrestling site and publication has some article or rememberance of the glory years of pro wrestling pre-1990's, when the Holiday was the best weekend of the year for drawing crowds to live grappling events. The most notable, of course, was the tradition in Greensboro, North Carolina, where Thanksgiving night at the Greensboro Coliseum was just as much a part of the Holiday festivities as turkey and dressing for 25 years.


Even though so many of my columns deal with what's wrong with pro wrestling today, I think everyone knows that deep down, I still love the sport. This sports entertainment shite gives me the sour belches, but I don't know that I can ever stop being a fan of true wrestling, especially the classic, vintage stuff I grew up on. I don't do that many wrestling events these days--a quick glance at my date book shows that in 2015 I will appear at only 13 events that involve actual matches, and three of those were the first few Global Force Wrestling shows near my home in Louisville.


Not only can't I figure out how to word this column, I'm actually astonished that I have to write it. How do you describe something in writing that is so instinctually obvious that you are amazed it needs explanation? I have finally decided that I will work it out, on paper, as I go, attempting to analyze just what it is that has made a certain segment of the current generation of fans AND wrestlers oblivious to the very things that have helped usher the wrestling industry into an era where it is less popular with more people than it's ever been.